To Break a Noble Face
by Order of the Aether
Summary: Steve Rogers was never too keen on accepting help. Bucky Barnes is not afraid to put him in his place, even in front of the other Avengers. One-shot, pre-AoU, fourth in my usual AU. No spoilers for Civil War.
**A/N: Captain America: Civil War made me mad at Steve. And that's coming from the girl who was a die-hard Team Cap.**

 **Until I get my head in gear and write something Civil-War related (which I will, be sure of that), I figured I might as well bring the "usual AU" up to speed to at least Age of Ultron. So have this small rant I wrote over one of Steve's biggest character flaws IMO, both in fanfiction and, apparently, the MCU.**

 **Slight language warning for when Bucky gets _really_ riled up, but nothing explicit, as always.**

* * *

 **To Break a Noble Face**

Captain America was a man called Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was not Captain America.

Under the bright blue cowl and the armored, close-fitting suit was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, 200-pound human being. He grew up in Brooklyn and joined the army because he would always defend the little guy from bullies, no matter where they came from. He enjoyed sketching. He couldn't dance. He knew what it felt like to be embarrassed, angry, overjoyed, excited, depressed, scared, and lost.

But try as Steve Rogers might to search inside himself for that noble pinnacle of justice, strength, and immovable American pride, he could find no such person.

It was a caricature, a mask he put on like the cowl, but this mask was worse. With the nation—the planet—the whole realm (because apparently that was a thing) looking up to him for protection, he had to wear that mask _constantly_ , until it melted into his being and froze to his emotions and nothing could break through.

Kindness could get out, sure. So could altruism, determination, support. He changed Natasha's world when he expressed trust in her. He made a swift friend in Sam with just a few words. And with a long, painful labor of love and time, he gave his best friend his life and his mind back after HYDRA had taken them both away.

Bucky was sharp. No sharper than he ought to be. Maybe Steve had expected that some of the programming would cling, permanently softening Bucky's personality in one corner or another. And maybe it did soften his voice. But the wit, the sharp mind, the sarcasm, and the perpetual big-brother overbearing could cut diamond.

And Bucky took one look at Steve's "noble face" one day and cut it down to the marrow.

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"Quit tryin' to be strong when you're not, you self-sacrificing—no, you listen to me, Steven Grant Rogers." Bucky's voice wasn't loud—it never was— but there were icicles dripping from it and his metal fist was tight around Steve's collar as he pulled him in, eye to piercing eye.

"Your team's exhausted and so am I and so are _you_ , I know, because I see it," he said. "You'd probably be dropping like a leaf if I let go of you right now, and if you let yourself. I dunno what's got into you, actin' like you don't feel anything ever, like you don't bleed like the rest of us."

"Buck, I—" It was true. Steve was so tired that just those two words slurred. The search for Loki's scepter had been fruitless and grinding, and the endless skirmishes with HYDRA took their toll. Steve just wished he could go lie down. But all eyes in the Quinjet were on him—save Natasha's in the pilot seat, but he knew her ears were as good as eyes.

"Don't tell me you haven't been, you punk," demanded Bucky. "I've been watching, and I've seen it. You've never been so quiet in your whole life, or smiled less, or worried more, and we were in a _war_ , for God's sake. Who d'ya think you are or tryin' a' be?"

"I'm the _Captain_ ," Steve managed to get in. His voice kindly lent more vehemence to the statement than he felt. "The leader has to be strong for the team, Buck, and that's me. S' always been me."

"No, it _isn't_." Bucky grabbed Steve by both his ears and—surprisingly gently—pulled him down until his shoulders hunched and Bucky's face was an inch over his own. Bucky's ocean-blue eyes were flaring.

"You're Steve Rogers, and you're a stupid, self-sacrificing, and did I mention _stupid_ punk. You can be Captain for the rest of the world just fine, and Heaven knows they need it, but I don't want to see that I've-got-everything-under-control goddamn lie of a look on your face around your _own team_ not _ever_ again. Ya bleed like the rest of us, Stevie. I've seen it more than I like..."

And when Bucky's voice fell, and Steve almost thought it was over, Bucky's fingers pinched sharply into his ears and the ex-assassin outright growled, "Now if you're gonna be leader, you'll deal with your emotions right, and y' aren't gonna act like you've got it all together 'cause no one _does,_ Stevie, and when you're tired or hurt or done y' aren't gonna act like you're not 'cause no one said you had to. Now _sitt'own._ "

And with a tiny shove, Bucky pushed the exhausted Captain America onto his rump on one of the Quinjet seats, and stalked off to the cockpit.

A moment of bewildered silence went by. Clint whistled.

"Wow," drawled Tony, drawing out the word. "Captain America just got told."

He and Clint started to laugh quietly before a bullet lodged itself in the wall by Tony's ear.

Tony yelped a swear word.

Bucky's pistol was still leveled in his hand. "Shut up." He turned around, growling darkly, "Leave him alone."

Steve sat back in the ensuing silence and tried to wrap his floundering mind around what in the world just happened.

All he knew was, something in him that he didn't know he hadn't wanted there had melted away, and he was so _grateful._

He slept in the Quinjet most of the way home.

* * *

When Steve woke up, he was still in his seat, but the fading evening light he'd seen through the Quinjet windows had given way to pure night.

In a sudden panic at not having watched his team for who knew how long, Steve scanned his eyes over the interior of the jet—finding Bucky and Natasha quietly conversing in Russian, Bruce fast asleep, and Clint pretending not to be interested in an intense game of Battleship between Tony and Thor.

They were fine. They were all fine. Steve let himself relax and figured he ought to take Bucky's earlier berating to heart—though he'd barely been able to get a word in on the argument.

Standing up out of his seat, Steve was just in time to catch a blanket that had been draped over his front and tucked in at the shoulders.

All of those occupants of the Quinjet who were awake turned a questioning eye on him—some more subtly than others, at different times and levels of interest. But Bucky leaned on the wall of the cockpit and looked him full-on in the eye, with a twinkle of something in his expression that Steve wasn't quite sure how to place.

But it was a smile. And Steve took a cue and, abandoning the noble mask, smiled and shrugged a shoulder at everyone else in the Quinjet.

Tony turned back to the game. "B-4."

And everyone relaxed.

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 **A/N: Aaaand we can all agree Steve had that coming.**

 **Reviews are blankets that mysteriously appear around friends...**


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